


let's keep the fire tame but we'll keep our hands hot

by everyshootingstar



Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5710948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyshootingstar/pseuds/everyshootingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam’s gentle exploration into the idea that he could, in fact, find something that makes him comfortable. James is there too, of course. And there’s sorta plot, an overall plot but then well, sex, nothing but sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's keep the fire tame but we'll keep our hands hot

**Author's Note:**

> I just cross posted this from my tumblr lmao. This was a commission fic by the way! Here's the AO3 version for whatever reason you need it for! <3 also seeing as I dont have my word doc anymore I just copied this straight from my tumblr so yell at me if it messed up pls <3 also enjoy! <3

It starts off as an afterthought, as something he just _picks up_ while out one afternoon because it catches his eye—its _cute_ and in a color he’s not sure would even look good on him but he likes the design, has to start _somewhere_ at least.

And so, he spends about an hour in the women’s section of the department store, pouring over sizes and styles, colors—things he’s not good at, until he’s settled on an orange colored (although the tag says _bronze_ and he has to snort at that because _really_ ) [sweater dress](http://scene7.targetimg1.com/is/image/Target/17093097?wid=500&hei=500&qlt=85) with long sleeves (and honestly the sleeves are what drew him to it, the soft material too, but he likes the sleeves and it’s…it’s a really dumb reason to buy a dress for _himself_ but again, he has to start _somewhere_ and sweater-like material with long sleeves seemed to be the way to go.)

The cashier doesn’t say anything when he puts it up on the belt, just smiles and makes a comment about how men who buy things for their girlfriend are great and she wishes she had a thoughtful boyfriend like that and Adam feels his mouth go dry because well, he _wants_ to tell her _no it’s for me, do you think the color would go good with gray_ but he can’t because his mouth won’t work past the words, won’t form them and get them out, so instead, he settles on a nod and passes her his card.

Leaving Target has never felt like more of a relief than it had at that moment, the dress safely tucked away in a bag (double bagged for _protection_ he’d told the cashier and she’d smiled at him and nodded in understanding) he can go on with his day and he does, goes home and tosses the dress in his closet without much thought, knows he won’t be needing it for a while, won’t be able to drum the courage up just yet but he _has_ it and that counts for something at least.

(It’s not for another six months that he feels the urge under his skin again, feels that itching, itching urge and he goes out, buys a pair of soft gray legging, still at target and it’s not the same cashier he had last time and he’s thankful because there’s no conversation except for the usual pleasantries and he’s out of there fast, nearly breaking a sweat under his hoodie.

When he gets back to his apartment, he locks the door and leans against it for a while, the leggings in the bag feel like a weight in his hand and he’s sighing, wondering if he’s even willing to do this sort of thing, if it’s what he really _wants_.

It nags at him until he gets his ass into gear, clears his mind and just _does it,_ goes into the bedroom and to his closet where he threw the dress and when he pulls it out, pulls it out of the bag, its wrinkled and he shakes it out, feels a little bad because he just _threw it in the closet_ and didn’t hang it up.

It takes him a while to do it, to strip down to his underwear and, and it’s weird, so weird, even with the tiniest pair of briefs he owns, it doesn’t feel _right_ when he pulls the leggings on and they stick in places uncomfortably and there’s _lines_ from his underwear and he wants to call the whole thing off but he _can’t_ because he _wants_ this so bad.

He ends up settling on how the leggings sit on his hips, low enough they’re still a little baggy and not sticking it places except to his legs (and god they’re too short, his ankles show and it’s going to look _wrong_ and he won’t look at all like he _wants_ to)—and then, then comes the hard part of getting the dress on—it works just like a sweater, a long sort of sweater but it’s cut wrong, his shoulders feel too wide, too big for it and he knows when he looks in the mirror he’ll look weird because even Target’s biggest size wasn’t big enough, didn’t take into account the span of his shoulders or the size of his waist (and hell, the belt doesn’t even fit right, won’t close around his waist.)

(He does look in the mirror and despite everything, despite the dress not fitting right, despite the sleeves not being _long enough,_ he feels _good_ , feels _amazing_ and it’s the best he’s felt in a while, can’t help the little spin he does, the way he admires his own ass in the mirror.

The color’s a little off and his underwear’s wedged uncomfortably against his dick but he feels _good_ like this and that’s, well that’s enough for him.)

He hangs the dress up when he’s done, vows to get a garment bag for it and puts away the leggings in a drawer and then he changes back into a t-shirt and jeans and he feels good still, feels somewhat _confident_ because the color may have been off, the dress may have been too small in most places, but he did it, he _wore_ it and that’s enough of a victory for one day after weeks of worrying, and he’s riding that high well on into the week.

_You’re glowing,_ James says to Adam when he goes into work the next morning and Adam laughs and little and shrugs, _I had a good multiplayer night,_ he says in reply to that and James buys it—and god, Adam’s glad, the last thing he needs is for James to _find out_ he spent five hours around his apartment in a _dress_ of all things.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust James, trust any of the guys with this it’s just, it’s _for him_ and _him_ only right now, probably for forever too, and he doesn’t need James or Bruce or _anyone_ finding out what he does in the privacy of his own home.

(The next dress comes from a plus sized store and honestly Adam’s not too keen on the name _plus-sized_ like there was something wrong with more material and a non-hourglass figure, but he supposes, that’s what companies do, how they market, even if it makes no sense to him.

He orders it online, measures his shoulders and waist and curses because translating his measurements into the sizing chart women use is a _nightmare_ but when the _Thank You for Your Order_ screen pops up and his phone buzzes to let him know he just spend money, he feels better, lighter, _happier_.)

It comes by the weekend and Adam’s holding his breath the entire time he’s cutting the box open, uses his keys to slice through the tape and under the packing, there’s a plastic bag with [the dress](http://assets.charmingshoppes.com/is/image/LaneBryant/pr_228328_00628?%24product_alt_image%24&wid=500&hei=640&op_sharpen=1) inside, folded neatly—he’s quick about shaking out the wrinkles this time and god, the material feels like heaven in his hands, feels so much _better_ than the sweater dress he has in his closet still.

He still hasn’t worked out the underwear situation yet, still hasn’t wanted to address that one, but he decides to forgo the leggings this time and when he strips down to his briefs, he stands in front of the mirror in his closet and holds the dress up.

_I’m really doing this,_ he says and his voice is low, breathless and _god_ the material feels good against his skin, feels smooth, soft, _perfect_ and he presses his lips together and turns away, steels himself and unzips the dress to slip it on.

When the material fits over his shoulders, when the waist doesn’t stretch uncomfortably, he breathes a sigh of relief and zips the back of it up, pats himself on the back mentally for measuring and going through the trouble of trying to figure out his size, wonders if he could get away with ordering other things off of that sight since they cater to larger sized women, since the dress fits so well, and he files that idea away for later.

It’s black, shows off his shoulders and arms in a way that should make him uncomfortable because his arms are bulky like his shoulders, but somehow, somehow, it makes him look alright, makes him look good, makes him feel even better than the ill-fitting sweater dress and he licks his lips, does a little spin and grins at the way the skirt of the dress moves with him and god, he can just imagine himself with a pair of sheer stockings, maybe some long socks, _something_ and he’d look even better. _God_ , he mumbles to himself and runs his palms along the skirt of his dress, feels his thighs through the material and wonders, very briefly, if he were to go out like this, would other people look at him, would other people want to _touch_ him.

(He doesn’t think too hard about the way his dick goes hard in his underwear, doesn’t think too hard about how he’s leaning against the mirror now, watching his left hand under the skirt of the dress, moving in fluid motions as he jerks off thinking about someone touching him while he’s dressed like this.

(If he’s honest with himself, so, _so_ honest, he’s thinking about James, thinking about how James would react seeing him dressed this way, thinking about James’ hand on his thigh going _higher higher higher_ and how James’ voice would sound in his ear, breathless and wrecked and, _Jesus Adam you look so damn good like this_.))

He has to clean the dress almost immediately, gets _come_ on it of all things but he doesn’t feel ashamed, can’t feel ashamed when he’s still riding the high of a _terrific_ orgasm and as he stands in his laundry room waiting for the washer to fill up, stripped down to just a pair of briefs, he wonders, should he take the extra step, should he actually buy _panties_ of all things to wear with the dresses.

(The answer’s yes, and when the dress is hanging up drying an hour later, he grabs his laptop and settles on the couch, scrolls through several of the designs on the plus sized website and finally, finally settles on two pairs, both red in color, both different styles, nothing too flashy and he pointedly ignores the _three for $19.99_ deal flashing in his face.)

They come in a week later and he ignores them the entire day, lets the box sit in the living room on his coffee table and he goes about his day—leaves around lunchtime to get something to eat and stop by target again and among the two packs of cheap socks, deodorant and shampoo, he throws in a pair of cheap stockings just because.

When he gets home, target bags and white paper bag from his favorite takeout place, he putters around his apartment and puts everything up in its place, takes the takeout to the kitchen and the deodorant and shampoo to the bathroom, drops the socks off in the bedroom and then he’s left with the stockings and a nervous feeling in his stomach.

He drops the stockings on the bed and then, to spend more time, goes out to the living room to grab the box and ends up standing in there center, by the coffee table on his phone for a bit, scrolling through his twitter feed for anything important and tries not to tell himself that he’s stalling when he knows he is.

After standing there for about thirty minutes, his twitter feed thoroughly gone through now, he places his phone down on the coffee table and grabs the box instead before retreating into the bedroom.

(It takes him a minute to get it open, to get past the packing and to get them out of the bag but he feels something fuzzy in his belly when he holds them up, bites his lower lip and looks at them, rubs his thumb over the material and sighs quietly—he goes for the more [sensible pair](http://assets.charmingshoppes.com/is/image/LaneBryant/pr_226132_9R_013400_ALT?%24product_alt_image%24&wid=500&hei=640&op_sharpen=1), the ones that are darker, that only have lace on the sides; not [the others](http://assets.charmingshoppes.com/is/image/LaneBryant/pr_p_229392_01673?%24product_alt_image%24&wid=500&hei=640&op_sharpen=1) that have a lacy mesh in the back—he just liked the style of those, doesn’t know if he’ll get the courage to try them on up but if he does, well, he has them.

He stores the others in his drawer, under all of his other underwear and t-shirts and then goes into the bathroom, makes a point to shower first and take as long as possible and then, once he’s out and dried off, he grabs the panties again and pulls them on—slow at first, careful up his legs over his thighs and he exhales when they fit, snug around his thighs but not too snug and then he carefully fixes himself in them, can see from the side view that his dick’s bulged obscenely in them, in the red cotton-y material and he has to take a deep breath, bite his lip before his thoughts go _too far_ down that road.

And then, then he turns the bathroom light off and goes into his bedroom, bypasses the mirror to sit down on the bed and pull out the stockings, to carefully rip the packaging open and roll them on, careful and he bites his lip when there’s a snag, when they run a little on his left calf but he keeps going, ignores it because they’re _cheap_ not because he’s _doing wrong_.

When he lets the material snap into place against his thigh he takes a deep breath and stands up, keeps his eyes averted as he goes to stand in front of the mirror and he waits until his heart slows down before he looks—and his heart starts up again, starts beating fast, beating hard against his ribs because _holy shit_.

His dick looks ridiculous in the panties, the red cotton-y material stretched obscenely over it, _accentuates_ it in ways that even his normal briefs don’t and the stockings, they’re cheap and the wrong color but they make his legs look slimmer, they make him look _good_ and he wants to just run his fingers over the silky material but he’s afraid, afraid of more runs, of ripping the fragile material so he just looks and slowly, so slowly he turns around (and he’s afraid to look because he can feel how the panties dig into his cheeks, how they don’t cover all the way but he needs to see, needs to see how they look, how they make his ass look.)

_Shit,_ Adam says to the empty bedroom, his voice overly loud as he takes in the way the panties frame and hug his ass, at how snug they fit and how they just barely cover his cheeks just _barely_. He swallows and then he’s looking away and with a determination, he walks back into the living room to grab his phone. He’s going to do it, going to do it, he thinks to himself over and over and over until he’s standing in front of the mirror with his camera app open.

The pictures are pretty tame, just his soft dick nestled in the cotton material of the panties, the tops of the stockings against his thighs visible and when he’s satisfied, he turns around and snaps a few of his ass, takes a couple from the side that show the _swell_ and then he turns away and goes to sit on the bed, spends at least an hour editing the pictures on his phone, adding filters and contrast changes until he’s happy and it feels normal, feels good to be wearing just the panties and stockings.

Maybe, maybe one day he can work up the courage to wear them under his clothes, his regular clothes, the ones he wears to work, stockings on under jeans, covered by his sneakers, panties covered by the jeans but digging into his skin, a sharp reminder of what he’s wearing.

He feels himself get hot and he stands up from the bed and goes to the closet, digs out the dress from the garment bag and he wastes no time in putting it on, in zipping it up and brushing out the stray wrinkles and then, then he glances at himself in the mirror behind him, feels _good,_ feels _pretty_ , _beautiful_ even and then, still dressed up, he leaves the bedroom and goes to eat, goes to re-heat his food and goes to the living room once he’s got a plate and a bottle of water, sits on the couch with one leg crossed over the other and watches television.

And it feels normal, feels good and normal and Adam knows he’ll be riding this high for a while.

(He finds himself back on the plus sized store’s website after a tough week at work, only this time he’s sitting in bed with the cheap stockings and the red panties on again, he’s got a t-shirt on but it’s one of his older ones, a smaller one that shows a line of skin between the hem of shirt and the band of the panties and he feels _good_ and relaxed—and as he’s scrolling through the website he finds a pair he wants, something simple in black with little Eiffel Towers on them because they amuse him and he orders three pairs—and when he falls asleep that night, he’s still in the panties, stockings tossed aside somewhere.

And it’s nice, being free like this.)

When the next package comes in, Adam’s giddy, a little nervous because he bought [these](http://assets.charmingshoppes.com/is/image/LaneBryant/rc_225573_I9_028205?%24product_alt_image%24&wid=500&hei=640&op_sharpen=1) for the sole purpose of trying them out under his regular clothes, of seeing how he feels, venturing outside his apartment with them on—and it’s not a dress or stockings but they’re _panties_ and he’s sure that he’s some sort of _pervert_ for wanting to wear them in public (and he knows, it’s not wrong anymore, not a weird thing anymore but it’s hard to unlearn things you’re taught from a young age, so fucking hard.)

He does it on a Monday, gets up extra early Monday morning and showers, spends time in the shower and cleaning himself, going over and over in his mind if he really wants to do this, if he’s really willing to take that sort of step and after pondering over it for almost an hour, he turns the water off and steps out of the shower, dries himself off with extra care and then he’s going into the bedroom where he’s got his clothes laid out, the panties lying on top of his jeans, waiting.

Adam watches himself pull them on this time, keeps his eyes on the cotton-y material as he pulls it up over his thighs, up over his dick and then he spends ten minutes fixing it, pulling at the material until it’s comfortably cupping his dick and he’s satisfied with the way the panties look and then he goes to pull on his shirt, smooths the material down over his chest and belly and he can’t help himself, grabs his phone and snaps a picture of the panties peeking out from under the hem of his shirt, bites his lip as he looks at the photo and before he can convince himself to delete it, he exits the app and tosses his phone to the bed.

Wearing jeans with panties, it’s not a much different sensation than wearing those cheap briefs he remembers wearing as a teenager, as a younger adult and that sets some calm over him as he buttons them and sits down to pull on socks and shoes and then—then he’s out the door.

He loses himself in the day and it’s not until he gets home goes to change that he remembers he had the panties on the entire day and something happy settles in the pit of his stomach, something happy and warm and he licks his lips and heads straight into his bedroom.

(He’s on his back, t-shirt rucked up to his chest, panties stretched obscenely over the rise of his hard dick—he’s on the bed, angled to where he can see himself in the closet door’s mirror and god, _god_ it’s hot, so damn hot, the panties are snug now, tight and he wants to push them off and get a hand around himself but he doesn’t, doesn’t do it, just rubs his palm over the bulge, unhurried as he presses his heels into the bed to rock up into it like he’s trying to fuck his hand and god, it won’t be enough by himself, but fuck if he could get off, if he could come while _wearing_ the panties, he’d probably _die_.

He has to get them down, has to push them down over his hips and ass, mid-thigh and he’s gone so fast the moment he gets his hand around his dick because it’s too good, _too_ good, the panties stretched around his thighs, dick standing and _hard_ and jesus christ, Adam can’t handle it.

—he comes in long spurts over his belly, his thighs, _everywhere_ and he’s panting when he’s done, hand sticky and messy and he needs to get up and clean up, shower and change but he feels so relaxed there.

(He ends up kicking the panties off and stripping out of his shirt, using it to clean the come off of his body and he rolls over, buries himself face first into his pillows and drops off to sleep almost immediately.))

Adam wears the panties to work for the rest of the week, alternating between the three pair and by Thursday, he feels so damn _good_ and _confident_ and Bruce comments on it and Adam shrugs it off as having a good week, he’s just feeling good, it’s a new year, they’re doing _great,_ so he’s happy and Bruce accepts it.

(It’s while they’re filming Open Haus that the question comes up about doing drag and everyone sort of shies away from it until James comments that out of all of them, Adam’s face is the prettiest so he’d look good in makeup and that’s what spawns it, what puts the idea in his head even as he’s laughing at the joke and shoving James out of frame with a, _Keep it up, Willems_.)

He knows nothing about makeup, nothing at all but he knows about lipstick and lip glosses and somewhat about eyeshadows so he goes to CVS and buys a palette of eyeshadow meant for brown eyes, buys a neutral color of lipstick and some clear gloss and then throws in some eyeliner as an afterthought.

The cashier doesn’t comment on his purchase but then again, the cashier looks more bored and out of her mind than anything—at least she doesn’t recognize him, he supposes.

He heads home and changes out of his work clothes into soft pajama pants and a plain t-shirt and grabs his laptop, googles some tutorials on how to apply makeup and after watching a few, he feels like he can at least _attempt_ to do it himself—and he does, he goes to the bathroom and carefully starts with the eyeliner, tries applying it like the girl in the video did, nothing too crazy right now, just a simple line and then he’s grabbing for the eyeshadow and that, that takes a while for him to figure out and he’s not really sure how to do it better, but—practice makes perfect he supposes even if the brown doesn’t look as good as he thought it would.

The eyeliner makes his eyes look good though, makes the brown pop more than usual and he bites his lip and looks at the lipstick and decides he can’t bring himself to do more than the clear gloss and that’s, well that’s alright because he looks fine like this, looks alright like this and then he goes to get dressed again, puts on the dress and the red panties (he still can’t bring himself to wear the other ones with the lacy mesh in the back) and more cheap stockings and he twirls in front of the mirror with a happy little laugh.

He looks _good_ and that’s something he didn’t think would happen, that his confidence would shoot up, his posture would get a little straighter as he struts around his apartment wearing stockings and a dress, _makeup_.

When he falls into bed that night, he falls asleep immediately.

(It’s several weeks, over two months really, later when his little secret because known to _James_ of all people—all because Adam lost track of time, forgets he invited James over, gave him a key to get in just in case he was still out running errands and shit, how did he forget that?

He’s wearing a [new, sort of off shoulder number, solid black and flowy](http://assets.charmingshoppes.com/is/image/LaneBryant/rc_225749_03985?%24product_alt_image%24&wid=500&hei=640&op_sharpen=1) with black tights—he even went the extra mile and bought flats to wear around the house, just something to slip on his feet so he’s not always barefoot, lounging on the couch playing Halo, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration when the door opens and James’ voice echoes through the hall with a cheerful _I brought beer and Chinese!_

A few things happen at once then, Adam dies, throws his controller onto the coffee table and gets up just as James comes into the living room and they both stop, they both pause and Adam’s looking at James like a deer in headlights while James looks at him with some look he can’t seem to decipher and when he finally, finally manages to calm himself down enough to talk, to move, he stutters out a _I’ll go change, shit_ and goes to turn towards the bedroom, to escape when a _Wait, Adam,_ stops him.

Adam’s shoulders hunch in, he tries making himself smaller, hopes the floor opens up and swallows him and he waits, waits for the ball to drop, for James to storm out in disgust.

_Jesus, Adam—Adam you look, holy fuck,_ James’ voice sounds _breathless_ , sounds _amazed_ and Adam doesn’t want to read too much into it, keeps his back turned and there’s footsteps, soft and careful and the sound of bags and a six pack being placed on the coffee table and then James’ fingers on the bare skin of his shoulder revealed by his dress, _Adam, would you, could you turn around for me?_

Adam exhales loud, his shoulders drooping, _relaxing_ and he’s still nervous, shaking a little even as he turns and faces James’ their faces close together and James sucks in a breath at the light dusting of eyeshadow over Adam’s lids, the eyeliner, the _lipstick_ on his lips—the way the neckline of his dress accentuates his collarbones, _Jesus,_ he breathes out and Adam looks at him with wide eyes, looks _mystified_.

James’ hand comes up to rest on Adam’s waist, on the curve of his hip and Adam’s afraid James will feel the line of the panties there through his dress—the bright red ones with the lace mesh back, the ones he’d been working up to wearing all this time.

_Adam, god, I just—I didn’t know, I don’t, you look **amazing**_ , James says softly and Adam _blushes_ at that, feels his cheeks heat up and when James takes a step back, he wants to move forward back into the heat James is giving off, but James is _looking_ at him with wide, admiring eyes, Adam can’t find it in him to move.

_Turn for me,_ James says, voice barely above a whisper and Adam does, the skirt part of the dress fluttering around his thighs, showing off the tops of his stockings and James lets out a loud exhale and Adam sees James’ hands clench by his sides and he feels something inside him, feels warm because he’s _affecting_ James like this.

It’s—it’s like all of his dreams are coming true in this moment, James looking at him like he’s something special, something _beautiful_ and Adam can’t stop himself, he closes the space between them, his hands finding James’ shoulders as he kisses him, James’ hands finding his waist, clenching in the material of the dress there, pulling it further up his thighs and Adam moans low in his throat, presses his body against James’ and it’s like a fucking _dream_.)

James’ hands shake as he pulls away and he’s grabbing the beer to take it to the kitchen, a _stay, stay there_ coming out just as shakily and he’s gone, leaving Adam standing in the living room—tv still on behind him.

When James comes back, he looks more put together but his hands still shake and he wastes no time in getting back in Adam’s space, getting his hands back on Adam, fingers bunching the material of the dress at his hips, _Adam, Adam,_ he mumbles and drags his lips along the lone of Adam’s jaw, the hair there rough and scratching, _Adam you look so god damned beautiful,_ he mumbles and then there’s teeth at the skin behind Adam’s ear and he goes _weak_ feels his knees shake a little as James sucks a dark bruise right behind his ear.

_James,_ he gasps when James’ mouth goes further down, goes to his collarbone, tongue, teeth and lips at the skin there and Adam’s fingers cup the back of James’ neck, _James, bedroom,_ he says, voice shaky and James laughs against his skin, sucks a bruise into the skin just above the neckline of the dress before pulling away, _Alright beautiful, lead the way,_ he says sweetly and Adam feels his heart _flutter_.

(In the bedroom, Adam goes to remove the dress but James stops him, stops him and drops to his knees and Adam feels his stomach _clench_ because _holy shit—_

_Come on babe,_ James says softly, runs his palms lightly up Adam’s calves, up the backs of his thighs, under the skirt of his dress and then he’s swearing softly just as a shaky moan leaves Adam’s mouth and there’s fingers digging into his ass cheeks, into the lace mesh covering them, fingertips rubbing over the material there and James digs his fingers in again and presses his face against Adam’s hip through the dress, _God, I want to blow you, wanna get my mouth around that pretty little cock of yours but I also wanna eat you out,_ he mumbles against the material of the dress and Adam’s weak-kneed already, not sure he could handle _both_ of those things.

_Blowjob,_ Adam says instead, _Blowjob first, right now, wanna fuck your mouth, James, been thinking about it for a while_ and James moans and rucks the skirt of the dress up and Adam’s holding onto it, holding it up to his collarbones while James pets over his hard dick, presses his palm over it until Adam bucks his hips forward and god, he knew it, had a _feeling_ that James was a teasing sort of lover, that he didn’t get _right to it_ instead, he pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses against his thighs, around the tops of the stockings until Adam was whining in his throat and _begging_ for something more than just James’ hand.

_You beg so pretty for me, sweetheart,_ James murmurs against his thigh and Adam shivers because the pet name, it _does something_ to him, makes his dick jump and James must feel it because he chuckles softly and mumbles, _Patience sweetheart,_ against his thigh again.)

It takes a while for James to get the panties pulled down enough to get to Adam’s dick, he can’t keep his eyes off of the bright red material, the way it cups Adam’s dick _just right_ and god when he does, when he gets them pulled down enough to get his mouth around Adam’s dick, Adam moans so loud, so _pretty_ and James feels his own dick press against the zipper of his jeans and he wonders why they haven’t been doing this sooner.

_James, James, fuck your **mouth**_ , Adam gasps, breathless and then there’s fingers in his hair and Adam’s hips are moving, pushing forward, _fucking_ into his mouth and it feels so good, feels so damn good and James moans, urges him on with hands on Adam’s ass, fingers playing with the lace mesh, dragging his nails over the revealed skin and making Adam’s hip buck forward and, there’s a thought, a dirty sort of thought James has, about ripping the panties, about shoving fingers in Adam’s mouth, getting them spit slick so he can work one inside Adam while Adam’s fucking his mouth—but he pushes it out of his mind, pushes the thought away for now, _for now_.

When Adam comes, he’s quiet, bites the material of the dress to stifle the shout, tightens his grip on James’ hair and holds him there as he comes and god, James just swallows it all, gets it all down and then he’s pulling back and tucking Adam back into the panties, soft dick spent and sensitive against the material.

_Oh my god,_ Adam mumbles and James stands, grins at him and pulls Adam in for a messy, dirty kiss, holds him tight against James’ body so he can feel his dick, feel the hardness against his own soft, sensitive dick.

He’s not sure what comes over him, not sure why he’s so eager to mark Adam up with come, but god, the thought, just the thought of it, it sends James into a frenzy and when he mumbles the words into Adam’s ear, tells him exactly what he wants to do, Adam’s nodding and dropping back onto the bed, rucking the skirt of the dress up again and waiting, looking up at James with wide, beautiful eyes until James is kneeling between his spread thighs, dick out, stroking himself until he’s coming hot and messy with a cry, over Adam’s thighs.

(And god, _god_ Adam looks so good, so god damn good like that, dress rucked up, cheeks pink and eyes glazed with come on his thighs, _James’_ come and if that doesn’t set something off dark in James’ belly, he’s not sure what else will.)

_I’m not sure why you’re not freaking out about this,_ Adam says to him later, they’re in the living room and James is working through a level of Halo while Adam eats chicken fried rice—and it feels normal, feels so normal to be sitting here in a t-shirt and panties, stockinged feet across James’ lap.

James snorts softly, _Is there a reason for me to freak out?_ He asks and pauses the game so he can look at Adam who’s choosing instead to shove copious amounts of rice into his mouth instead of talking. _Hey, Adam seriously, I’m not freaking out about this because it’s something you want. You don’t have to be scared or nervous, honestly, you’re the happiest and most relaxed I’ve seen in a while and well, well its nice Adam, really nice,_ he says with a grin, reaching out to poke a finger to one of Adam’s cheeks.

_Are you sure,_ Adam says once he’s swallowed the food down and he’s looking at James now, looking into those big blue eyes that make his heart do weird things and James laughs softly and leans in to press a kiss to his lips.

_I’m here now, aren’t I?_ he asks.

And that—that makes things better, makes his heart thump loudly against his ribcage.

(Adam does it on a Friday night after work, he’s scrolling through the photos on his phone, trying to clear some space on his phone when he comes across the photos, the edited ones he took of the other panties and an idea builds in his head as he brings up the messaging app and he sends them to James with no other thought, just the photos and then he tosses his phone to the other side of the couch and gets up to go get ready.)

James is there by the time he gets out of the bathroom, by the time he’s dried off and pulled the panties with the lace mesh up over his ass and pulled on some stockings to match—instead of a dress,  he just pulls a t-shirt on and he’s, well, he’s a sight in the mirror, and when he steps into the living room, James is looking at him with lust darkened eyes.

_Hey there hot stuff,_ Adam says with a cocky little grin, _I see you got my messages, how’d you like them?_ He asks and James doesn’t say anything, just stalks over to him and then Adam finds himself with an armful of James crowding him back into the bedroom, lips insistent on his, kissing him until he’s breathless and lightheaded.

Adam lets out a surprised sound when James pushes him down onto the bed, when he slaps Adam’s thigh and tells him, _Get up on your hands and knees for me sweetheart, I wanna see your pretty little ass,_ in a low voice that’s sending shivers down his spine and he does it, gets on his hands and knees and then James’ hands are on his ass again, kneading his cheeks, spreading them and Adam drops down to his elbows, presses his face into the bed with a low groan.

_God baby, look at you, all dressed up pretty for me,_ James mumbles and presses a kiss against one of his ass cheeks and he exhales, _God baby can I eat you out? Can I? Will you let me?_ he mumbles all eager and Adam nods, stutters out an affirmative and then James is humming and fingers are hooking in the mesh and James whispers _I’ll buy you some more,_ before he’s _pulling_ and the material _rips_ so easy.

_Oh my god,_ Adam mumbles and then James is there, fondling his ass cheeks again, spreading them and then his _tongue_ and _mouth_ and Adam loses himself in the feel of James’ mouth, James’ tongue fucking into him with abandon until he’s clawing at the bed, rocking back against James’ mouth, his dick hard and twitching in his panties and James, James keeps him there, keeps fucking into him until he’s coming in the panties, moaning James’ name into the bedsheets below him.

_Holy fuck,_ Adam manages later as he drops down onto his belly on the bed, legs shaking.

James is kneeling between his splayed thighs, running his palms up Adam’s thighs, _God, I cannot get over how **good** you look in these,_ he whispers and then he gets an idea, presses a kiss between Adam’s shoulder blades through the t-shirt before he’s sliding off the bed, _Where do you keep your lube?_ He asks and Adam hums, waves towards the general area of the dresser and James heads off to get the lube, digs through the top draw and finds several over pairs of panties, all different colors and he gets ideas, wonders if _he_ could get some that Adam would wear and tucks the thought away as he closes his hand around the lube.

Adam’s easy and pliant when he gets back to the bed, lets James strip the shirt off of him and roll him over onto his side and then James is shedding his clothes and crawling in behind him, _Gonna fuck your thighs, baby boy,_ he mumbles and Adam moans weakly and nods, leans back into James, spreads his thighs more so James can lube them up, can get them nice and coated and they both moan, James’ muffled into Adam’s neck when he slides his dick between Adam’s thighs and rocks forward and Adam _squeezes_ , keeps steady pressure for James to fuck into.

_God baby, you’re so good to me, wanna make you all pretty sweetheart, wanna see you all dolled up and pretty, wanna buy you nice things, wanna take you out and show you off to the world, show everyone how god damn good you are, how good you look,_ and his words taper off into a moan, into a steady stream of _fuck so good baby boy, so damn good_ as he comes hard and Adam moans, knows his thighs are a mess, the panties are a mess, his _stockings_ and his dick wants to get hard again, wants to react to James’ praises but it can’t, he _can’t_.

They shower together and the entire time, James keeps his hands on Adam, keeps his hands at Adam’s hips like a hot, possessive brand and it feels _good_ to have James this wanting, this _eager_ for him.

Falling into bed that night with James seems like a dream, they’re both naked, both warm from the shower and Adam feels like he could take on the world with James at his side in flats and tights and a dress.

(Of course, _of course,_ James meant it, meant he wanted to buy things for Adam and when the unmarked box shows up, Adam’s a little wary but a text from James quells that, sets him at ease and he’s cutting the box open and pulling out the packaging tape and well, well inside is a [pair of fishnet tights and sensibly cut panties with frills around the top](https://40.media.tumblr.com/3202b380ad3fc741d6fa86487bb45f26/tumblr_mk5uqqOHj21qd1yw5o6_400.jpg) from a website that advertises  _men’s lingerie_.

Adam goes breathless, feels his eyes go wide and he gets up, immediately heads to the bathroom to shower.)

He pulls the tights on first and they feel weird against his dick but it’s alright because then he’s stepping into the panties and pulling them up over his ass, over his dick and god, _god_ they feel nice, they fit like a dream and he grabs his phone, angles himself so his ass is in full display and he snaps a picture, doesn’t even edit it just sends it straight to James.

_Come over here,_ is the text he receives from James and to follow up there’s a, _Bring your favorite dress._

Adam bites his lip and texts back an affirmative before he goes to the closet, pulls out the newest one he’s bought, a [gorgeous blue colored dress with _lace_](http://assets.charmingshoppes.com/is/image/LaneBryant/pr_228832_08028?%24product_alt_image%24&wid=500&hei=640&op_sharpen=1)—he’s not worn it before, was saving it for a special occasion and between the gift from James and the invite over to his apartment, Adam feels like this is definitely the perfect occasion.

He’s not sure what draws him to do it, what makes him pull the dress on and then pull a pair of sweatpants on over the tights—but he does, and it’s dark enough now that with a long enough coat, he can hide the fact he’s wearing a dress and he slips on the flats and leaves his apartment.

(James welcomes him with a kiss, with an _I missed you_ against his mouth and Adam sighs and leans into him before he grins and pulls away, _I have a surprise,_ he says and then he slips away to the bathroom—gets rid of the pants and coat and straightens his dress before he steps out into the hallway.

_Oh my,_ is James’ reaction when he comes into the living room, head held high, entire posture relaxed and he’s glowing absolutely glowing as he walks over to the couch where James is sitting, does a little spin for him just so the skirt of the dress flares up enough to show off his upper thighs and James makes a noise in his throat, a convoluted sort of moan, _Come here baby, come here,_ he’s saying, holding his hands out to Adam and Adam goes, drops down into James’ lap.

James’ hands are warm on his thighs, running up them, playing with the hem of his dress, _God baby boy, look at you,_ he breathes out, voice awed, _You look so beautiful like this, so radiant and happy, god I wanna keep you like this, want you to always be this happy._

Adam _giggles,_ leans in and tilts James’ head back to kiss him slowly, softly, _You make me plenty happy,_ he mumbles when he pulls away, _Your little gift, I didn’t expect, honestly, **men’s** lingerie? _ he mumbles with wonder, _I didn’t know it existed._

James drops a line of kisses along Adam’s neck, unable to help himself, _I have something else coming for you, sweetheart, something pretty you’ll like a lot_ , he mumbles and Adam shivers, lets James kiss his neck for a bit before he’s sliding out of James’ lap just as James’ dick’s starting to get hard.

_Now now,_ Adam says, wagging his finger at James and James laughs a little but sits back, keeps his hands to himself as Adam moves back and starts slowly pulling the skirt of the dress up, _Shouldn’t you see your little gift?_ He asks teasingly and James’ breath leaves him with a loud _whoosh_ when the skirt’s pulled up and all he can see is the way Adam’s ass fills the panties out.

_No ripping these,_ Adam says sternly, meaning the fishnets and James’ penchant for ripping things in haste to get to Adam’s skin, _I like these a lot and it’d be a shame for me to only wear them once because you can’t control yourself_.)

James doesn’t rip them, in fact, he takes so much care in getting the panties and tights off Adam, pressing kisses to the insides of his thighs and down his legs as he drags them down that Adam’s going out of his mind by the time James comes back up, cradled in between his thighs, holding himself up over Adam, _The dress stays,_ James says firmly and then he’s kissing Adam hard while he gropes around on the nightstand for lube.

The first finger has Adam moaning loud, has him throwing his head back and gripping James’ biceps tight while James peppers kisses all over his face, his jaw and throat, along the neckline of the dress until Adam’s fucking back against the finger, begging and begging for more.

James gives him more, gives him two and then three, works him up to four before Adam’s _begging_ to be fucked, begging for James’ dick inside him and James has to shush him with a kiss, the press of his mouth against Adam’s no more than just lips sliding against lips while they pant into each other’s mouths and then, then James is lubing his dick and pressing _in in in_ until he’s fully seated, until Adam’s thighs are around his hips tight and Adam’s voice loud in his ear as he begs him to fuck him, begs him in a low whiny voice to _move, go, please James please fuck me, fuck me_.

And James is but a weak man to a pretty guy in a dress begging to be fucked, so damn weak to  _Adam_ in a dress, begging to be fucked.

He plants his hands at Adam’s sides and fucks into him with one long, hard thrust, relishing in the way that Adam’s voice goes from low to high and pitchy, breathless and whiny like god damned music to his ears.

(And it doesn’t last long even though he wants it to, wants to hold on, wants to fuck Adam for  _hours,_ but he can’t because the moment Adam comes, the moment he cries out and clamps down tight around James’ dick, comes long stripes up his belly, _on the_ _dress_ he can’t help himself, he fucks into Adam several more times before he’s coming, shaking, feeling so good as Adam clenches down around him, milks the come out of his dick so well.

It’s so easily the best sex he’s had in a very, _very_ long time and when they’re spent and panting, he mumbles, _I’m easily ruined for everyone else, **ever**_ and Adam chuckles and slides his arms around James’ waist, _Good_.)

James gets the text _I’m at your place_ and a filtered picture of Adam’s stocking covered thigh while he’s at the gym and instead of answering the text he just finishes his set and leaves, forgoes showering or changing just goes home.

And god, _god_ is he glad he does because when he gets there, he finds Adam lounging on his bed in another one of the things James ordered for him—[a thick black band sits low on his hips, attached to that a tiny plaid pink skirt with lace trim and god, there’s _garters_ and everything attached to black stockings](https://40.media.tumblr.com/63bcdc4ba9634cd27c87e5198109393d/tumblr_mk5uqqOHj21qd1yw5o1_1280.jpg) and James’ mouth waters and he wastes no time in shucking his shirt and crawling onto the bed, right between Adam’s welcoming thighs and god, god he’s hard under the panties, hard and wanting just for James’ taking.

James’ mind short circuits when he gets Adam’s legs up over his shoulders, sees the black base of a plug under the see-through material of the panties, _God,_ he mumbles, buries his face right between Adam’s thighs, presses a line of biting kisses on each side of the garters, around the tops of the stockings and then—then he’s pressing his face into the plaid skirt, mouthing at the hard outline of Adam’s dick.

He’s pretty sure his own dick’s hard enough to cut diamonds by the time he gets around to getting out of his shorts, getting out of everything and then he’s naked, dick curved against his belly and Adam licks his lips, reaches out to stroke James’ dick for a bit, murmurs dirty things into the quiet air of the bedroom until James can’t handle it anymore.

He makes quick work of the stockings, doesn’t rip them or the garters as he pulls them off and then the panties are next and Adam’s naked, gloriously naked and waiting, _ready_ and all James has to do is grab the lube and slick himself up—and he’s an asshole, he knows he is because when he pulls the plug out of Adam, he presses two fingers in just to be a dick, just to _tease_ him and before Adam can say anything smart, he’s pressing his dick in hard and fast and; and he doesn’t give Adam time just _fucks_ him, fucks him into the bed, hands fisted in the sheets beside Adam’s hips as his own hips snap  forward brutally and Adam’s gone, lost with it, moaning and crying out loud enough that the _neighbors_ can probably hear but well, James doesn’t care, doesn’t care one bit.

James stops about halfway through, flips Adam over onto his hands and knees and fucks him like that, presses his face into the bed while he fucks him and when Adam’s knees give out and he’s lying on the bed, James molds against his back, wraps an around his chest, around his _throat_ and fucks him like that until Adam’s lightheaded with it.

He keeps Adam on edge for what feels like _hours_ and when he finally allows Adam to come, its with a punched out groan that sounds weak, James’ name stuttered out over several too many syllables as he shakes apart at his core.

And James, James pulls out and jerks himself off over Adam’s back, comes over his ass, over the slight red marks on his thighs where the garters used to sit and god, Adam’s messy and gross now but he looks so utterly fucked out, ass clenching and unclenching around _nothing_ and fuck, just for kicks—just because he _can_ , he slides the plug back into Adam who moans, voice hoarse, at the sudden stimulation ( _overstimulation_ ) against his prostate.

_You’re going to be the death of me,_ Adam mumbles to him several hours later after several rounds, his chest covered in hickies, a line of bruises around his waist from James’ hands, there’s no dried come, no more plug now and he’s naked as the day he was born but god, he looks beautiful and most importantly, he’s _James’._

_What a way to go,_ James says sleepily at his side and Adam laughs, turns into him and closes his eyes, mumbles an _Yeah, sure I guess you’re right,_ into James’ collarbone and it feels good, feels  _right_ to be like this, to have Adam in his arms, in his bed.

(The gifts keep coming in the form of men’s lingerie and dresses and soon, soon Adam’s wearing the stuff to work sometimes, wearing _women’s cut_ sweaters instead of men’s cut because they accentuate his waist better and they drive James nuts and when he wears a dress, a _sweater dress_ of all things and a pair of gray tights, much like the ones he first bought, James loses his _mind_.

No one else comments on it, Sean compliments the color and he and Lawrence argue over whether or not it’s bronze or orange and Bruce tells him he looks nice but makes it clear that fooling around with James is to be kept during lunch time (if they _absolutely have to_ ) or their off time and Adam nods as does James, makes it very clear that this isn’t something that’ll distract James—this is something for Adam, something that builds his confidence.

And when the question comes up on Open Haus, _Hey Adam, what’s with the wardrobe change? Mid-life crisis?_

Adam laughs loud and leans into James and then with confidence he answers, _Comfort._ And it’s the truth, not a joke by any means; he’s the most comfortable he’s been in _years_.) 


End file.
